


Impulse Control

by Forest_Girl



Series: Functionally Dysfunctional [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: A lot of cleaning, Allusions to Visions of V, Anal Sex, Apologies, Awkward Boners, Bad Horror Movies, Biting, Caretaker!Nero, Choking, Cliffhangers, Dante's Toilet, Family Issues, Frottage, Internal Conflict, M/M, Movie Night, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Reunions, Running Away, Separation Anxiety, Sexual Tension, Small bit of Shenanigans, Taken to a whole new demonic level, Twincest, Vergil learning to be human (and also a little bit like a father), Wet Dream, aka Nero cleans up the DMC office while Dante and Vergil are in Hell, honestly nero's demon is just a bratty little bitch throughout this entire thing, past trauma, sequel coming soon! maybe. hopefully., yes that deserves a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-01-22 01:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_Girl/pseuds/Forest_Girl
Summary: Nero just wanted to keep the office clean for Dante when he returned from Hell. That’s all it was, practically a gift for the geriatric fuck.He didn’t expect, months after he set out on this goal, to find out that his father and uncle were having sex, but Nero already knew that the universe hated him.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante/Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Kyrie & Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Functionally Dysfunctional [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534928
Comments: 36
Kudos: 441





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Man, you ever get that feeling when you start writing something and you know that you’re going to hell?
> 
> So, first of all, please check the tags! They'll be updated with relevant information with every new chapter, so please be cautious. I try to tag as best as possible so everything is filtered properly, but I don't like posting spoilers for later chapters, so that'll get updated frequently.
> 
> Secondly, I know, this chapter doesn't fit the explicit ratings, but the later chapters will definitely have more explicit content, and I don't want to mislead people. Plus, the idea of Nero having a crush on Dante probably falls under 'explicit' for some people, so... yeah. That's my logic there.
> 
> Third and finally, this is absolutely unbeta'd and is currently being posted at 2:30 in the morning. If there are any spelling errors, grammatical errors, etc., please let me know bc i am TIRED and i just wanna post this first chapter already lol.
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy!

Here was a little fact that not many people knew: Nero was an absolute neat freak.

During his years in the orphanage, he was frequently forced by the other kids to do their chores, but he never minded cleaning up. He liked making everything look neat and orderly, giving everything its place and organizing books, later documents and weapons when he joined the Order. Sure, he liked rough housing more, and he didn’t really care for the messes he made while fighting demons, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction looking around his recently cleaned bedroom after a week of letting the mess build up.

In the wake of Dante’s sudden departure with his… _ father _ (which was still something he was struggling to comprehend), Nero realized that no one had been taking care of the main shop. Trish and Lady worked on the other end of town and didn’t want to take the ‘long trek’ just to go to a completely different building. He couldn’t blame them. After all, he wouldn’t want to move if he got all his jobs through Morrison. 

Speaking of, Morrison couldn’t care less if the building fell to pieces, so he was obviously not a candidate. He also had his own home, and the revenue Trish, Lady, and occasionally Nero generated in the wake of the Qliphoth weakening the barriers between worlds kept his cuts hefty.

Nico certainly didn’t want to live there—she already had the spare room in Kyrie’s home to camp out in, plus her van—and honestly, Nero wouldn’t want her to live there either. The only place Nico kept absolutely clean was her workshop, so the pigsty that was already present in Devil May Cry would only get worse. Besides, Nero knew the scent of her cigarettes would follow her wherever she went, which would make him never want to visit the office again, regardless of Dante's return.

And… well, Nero wasn’t about to force Kyrie and the kids to uproot everything and move to the mainland. Nero knew that Fortuna, despite all its misgivings and fucked-up shit, held a special place in Kyrie’s heart, especially after Credo’s passing. Forcing the kids to move was also a spectacularly terrible idea. They’d been moved around so many times in their lives already, it would be cruel to do so on Nero’s wants alone.

So that left Nero with… not a lot of options, to say the least. He didn’t want to be an asshole and just leave Kyrie, but he also didn’t want the main office to rot anymore than it already had. Part of it was business related—if anyone went to the address listed on the few adds that still existed, they’d find a literal shithole instead of a somewhat decent establishment—but it was also for somewhat sentimental reasons. He couldn’t imagine Dante coming back from Hell, covered in demon gunk and probably wanting nothing more than a warm bath and a decent nap, only to not be able to because his home was too disgusting to do anything.

He explained the situation to Kyrie one evening after dinner as they cleaned up, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “You have such a big heart, Nero. You feel for people who aren’t even here.”

Nero blushed and looked away, focusing on washing the dishes while Kyrie dried them. Even after all these years, he still wasn’t used to being complimented, even by Kyrie. 

A comfortable silence settled between them before Kyrie spoke again. “I think you should go.”

Nero startled, nearly dropping the bowl in his hands as he turned to look at Kyrie. She was smiling, portioning out the leftovers so that the kids could have some for lunch tomorrow, like she hadn’t basically fixed his entire crisis in five words. “Really?”

“Yeah, I do. It’d be a nice thing to do for him. Plus, you and Nico have mentioned that there are more jobs on the mainland than here because of what happened in Redgrave. You’d be closer to work.”

“Well…” It was true. Nico had openly complained during dinner about how most of their money had gone towards gas because of how often she and Nero had to drive out of Fortuna to whatever job they’d been assigned. Not only would it save Nico money and keep the maintenance and cleaning of the van low, but it’d be easier for Nero to get work and respond in a timely fashion. “I still feel bad just leaving.”

“But you aren’t ‘just leaving,’ I’m telling you you should go. It’ll take a couple days to pack up enough of your things so you’d be comfortable, so we can explain what’s happening to Nico and the kids.” Kyrie placed the empty pot in the sink, pressing against Nero’s side as he turned the sink on to let it fill. “You’ll call us and visit every now and again, clean up the office, and keep the world safe. It’s not all that different when you’re out on a long job with Nico.”

Nero smiled and hugged her, picking her up slightly and spinning her left and right. “You’re too good for me.”

Kyrie wiggled, laughing as she tried to get out of his grip. “Stooop your hands are all suddzy!”

“Hmm… Alright!” Kyrie squealed as Nero slung her over his shoulder, laughing as he took the leftovers and placed them in the fridge before carrying her up to bed.

* * *

Back when Nero first met Dante, he made up this wild, fictional image of the man in his head. Oh sure, their relationship had started off with Nero hating his guts and following him to only later kill him, but once the Savior had been dealt with, his opinions of Dante had changed. Instead of a mass-murdering sociopath, Nero saw someone virtuous and heroic.

It resulted in Nero developing a… crush, he guessed would be the best word for it. He admired Dante as an experienced devil hunter, and a man who could see through the smoke and mirrors the Order had set up, something that Nero himself couldn’t do.

He never told anyone about it, not even Kyrie. A man having romantic thoughts about another man was strictly against the Order’s doctrine, and he wasn't stupid enough to out himself, even after the Order had dissolved. He grabbed enough attention with his arm, he didn't need people saying he was a 'sodomite' or some other stupid shit on top of that.

The crush faded over the years, but never really went away. It was always there, hovering around the back of his mind like a storm cloud, along with Nero’s pieced-together vision of Dante’s real identity. Nero never thought it was a bad thing, just... not good. Not something to be shared with his friends and family, at the very least.

Then he learned that he and Dante were related. 

Learning Dante was his uncle was what really made him feel ashamed of himself, and Nero did his best to get rid of any romanticized memories of him, but it still clung onto him, like a parasite.

Entering Devil May Cry, however, got rid of those lingering feelings _ real _ quick.

To give Dante _ some _ credit, the office being abandoned for months at this point probably did more damage than whatever he could’ve managed on his own. Beneath the inch of dust that had settled, there were scattered scraps of papers, magazines, empty, greasy pizza boxes, knocked over beer bottles, and probably more that he couldn’t see from a first glance. The sparse furniture was old (maybe even older than Nero with just how dirty they looked), and what wasn’t old was in disrepair. Nero found old speakers that were practically falling apart behind the staircase, and the jukebox in the far corner looked like it’d seen better days. It was a lot to clean, and there was a fair amount of repair work needed, but it wasn’t impossible.

But… the _ smell. _ Holy shit, Nero absolutely did not factor in the smell. Oh, sure, it was Dante, and the moment he saw the empty pizza boxes he thought _ they _ were the source. But apparently leaving a somewhat-stocked refrigerator to sit in the middle of a powerless building, in the _ middle of summer, _ was a terrible idea if you didn’t want the food to rot, and stink, and basically, Nero was going to have a rough time. 

Oh, and also the toilet. Nero nearly threw up when he first saw that monstrosity, but he managed to hold back (if only because he wouldn’t have anywhere else to throw up, fucking dammit Dante).

Nico didn’t stick around, and Nero couldn’t blame her. As much as living in the same place as Dante appealed to her, she wasn’t interested in the clean-up process, especially with the scent of rotting _ everything _ hanging heavy in the air. Besides, she made it clear she wanted to get back to Fortuna to help Kyrie with the kids as soon as possible. All she needed was a quick nap, a snack, and a cup of coffee, and she could get the latter two on the way back to the shipyard.

The first thing he did after looking around the office was clean up the couch and find a decent pillow so he could sleep. While he could take Dante’s room and enjoy the comforts of an actual mattress, there was just something _ wrong _ about entering it without his permission. It was Dante’s personal space and, unless the old fool turned up dead one day, Nero didn’t want to disturb it unless absolutely necessary. When he got through everything else, maybe he’d go in and just dust it, but that’d be the extent of his meddling.

After getting some food and rest, Nero got to work. 

First thing holding back any progress was paying the many long overdue bills. That required a phone call to Morrison (who laughed at Nero for a few minutes before realizing, yes, he was serious), then a few days for the paperwork and money to go through. Nero passed the time by cleaning up the first floor; he swept up the dust, put all the papers and magazines into neat piles on the pool table, and took a closer look at the jukebox and TV to see if they needed any urgent repairs, or if they needed to be scrapped.

Once the sinks worked, it took him an entire day to clean up the bathroom, if only because he had to leave every ten minutes because the smell was _ that bad _ . Whatever was rotting in the kitchen was one thing, the toilet was something Nero hoped he would _ never _ have to deal with again. He had to take the rest of the day off because he was honestly getting a headache from all the cleaning chemicals he used to kill that thing.

With that done, the kitchen almost seemed trivial. What little cutlery, plates, and bowls Dante had were easy enough to clean once he got the water back on and organize. The refrigerator was an entire nightmare, if only because it was so far gone. It was easy, if disgusting, to get the rotting food out, but nothing could remove the stench. 

At the very least, leaving the bathroom to air out and spraying enough Febreeze that could suffocate a dog was an option. The fridge, on the other hand, couldn’t be saved. It was rotting and covered in water stains, and the hinges were so badly rusted, Nero practically had to pry the doors open. Hopefully Dante wouldn’t mind a new fridge.

All in all, the worst rooms took nearly a full week to clean up, if only because there were so many roadblocks. Either way, by the end of the first week, Nero could enter the building without gagging at the stench, and he was looking online for a fridge that he could afford _ and _ that would fit.

That left a few dusty storage rooms upstairs, Dante’s bedroom, and the basement to clean up. The only area Nero couldn’t access was the basement—he didn’t know if there was a demon-proof lock or if the door was just stuck, but he couldn’t get it open and he didn’t want to break the door down—so that left him with sorting through the many, _ many _ piles of things Dante had hoarded over the years. Joy.

* * *

Aside from his hospital stay and dealing with the Qliphoth, Nero had never been away from Fortuna for so long. 

He was prepared to handle the dual workload of cleaning the office and killing demons just fine. He already did that when living in Nico's van, to a certain extent. He _ wasn’t _ prepared for the ache of homesickness taking root in his chest. He made sure to call Kyrie, check in on the kids, but a voice over the phone wasn’t the same as actually _ being _ with the person.

So, to distract himself, he dove into his work. He cleaned and organized rooms like a nun would come and spank his ass raw, and he took up every job Morrison passed to him. It left him bone-tired, but taking breaks led to the ache growing, and growing, and he’d get right back up after five minutes of sitting down to find _ something _ to do. Grocery shopping, finding parts for the jukebox and TV, reorganizing what he already had organized like a lunatic, anything to keep himself occupied.

When Nero was halfway through cleaning and repairing the jukebox, Morrison decided to drop by. The agent whistled in surprise as he looked around the office, chuckling when Nero turned around, hands covered in grime. “Damn, you’ve really made this place look presentable.”

“Well, someone had too.” Nero sighed, wiping his hands clean with a rag. He’d been working solidly throughout the day, and he was more than happy to use Morrison’s visit as an excuse to take a break. “I doubt he’ll care about doing some chores when he comes back from Hell. He’d probably want some food, too, so… gotta keep the bills paid, I guess.”

Morrison chuckled. “You wanna know something? The place wasn’t nearly as bad as when Dante was in charge. When Dante left, them crazy bitches came in and practically tore the place apart.”

“Seriously?” Nero almost couldn’t believe that Lady and Trish were responsible for the mess, but it wasn’t like he knew them well, either.

“Oh yeah. They’d come in here for a couple hours, eat some pizza, play some pool, then up and leave without cleaning up. Eventually, they got tired of waiting for Dante to show up and they left everything behind.”

“God dammit, they owe me money for all my cleaning supplies.”

The conversations following that were easygoing. Morrison, was a nice guy, if a bit rough around the edges. He couldn’t stop looking around the shop, stopping the conversation multiple times to remark on how nice it looked. Nero guessed that most of his surprise was because he couldn’t imagine someone taking on a massive workload like this without pay.

Before he left, he had a few more job offers for Nero. They were all relatively easy, just a few groups of low-level devils taking up residence in a couple abandoned buildings. All of them had decent pay, even after Morrison took his cut. It was Morrison’s best attempt at being considerate, and he took a few, promising to get to them as soon as possible. 

One day, to Nero’s complete surprise, Lady and Trish stopped by. They had a similar reaction to the shop as Morrison did, but they didn’t come to pay him back for all the work he’d done to clean up _ their _ mess.

Instead, they dragged him out of the office and took him to a ‘mall.’ He’d never seen a building so big, filled with so many shops and stalls and people, all carrying bags of various sizes around while sipping on plastic cups filled to the brim with sugary coffee. It _ screamed _ mainland. 

It was the best thing Nero had experienced since arriving at the shop, and he didn’t even notice the ache in his chest had vanished.

* * *

The oddest thing about living in the Devil May Cry office was that it didn’t _ feel _ like an office.

Granted, Nero wasn’t really one to judge. Growing up on Fortuna, sheltered and controlled by the Order’s iron hold over the media, didn’t do much to give him an image of the mainland. In recent years, more TV shows and movies had become available to the public—not a _ lot, _ but some more modern classics that he and Kyrie could watch with the kids every now and again—that showed mainland life. 

None of them dealt with demonic things or any other ‘unholy’ topics. Even though the island was more open than it had been twenty years ago, they weren’t about to let in any ‘demonic’ influences. As a result, most of them were ‘slice-of-life’ shows, whatever _ that _ meant, and comedies, most surrounding work places, and showed what a mainland office looked like.

It did not look like Devil May Cry. It looked more like an apartment that had the vague idea of an office smashed into the first floor, with the rest of the building acting more like a house. 

That made sense. Dante didn’t seem like the type of guy who would want to set up an entire other building for his business, then come home to a small apartment. Owning the entire building, especially in an area of the city that looked pretty dingy, was probably just… _ better _for him.

Of course, the side effect of the office doubling as an apartment was that Nero started to feel like Devil May Cry was his home.

It wasn’t, obviously. Nero was taking care of it, making sure that everything looked and felt put-together when (if) Dante returned. He still called Kyrie and, of course, she asked if he was close to done and planning to come back soon. It didn’t feel nagging, and he still felt that he had a home with her, but… he also felt that he belonged in Devil May Cry, or that the office was his. Maybe the human part of him wanted to settle down here after putting in so much work, maybe it was his new, demonic instincts doing something. Hell, he didn’t know.

But when his mind drifted off as he repaired the TV, a gentle guitar song playing from the fixed jukebox, and he imagined Dante returning, looking around in awe before he finally saw Nero and gave him a soft, warm smile, he didn’t feel bad. He felt…

Well, he felt like he was home.

Maybe that was the first sign that Nero well and truly fucked.

* * *

A month passed, and the building had improved significantly. For one thing, you could see through the windows, and walk around the main floor without tripping or slipping on whatever junk had been left there. The place was tidy, the trash thrown out, the new refrigerator was working smoothly, and anything that was broken before had since been fixed. 

Hell, Nero was even planning on going above and beyond the call of duty. He had plans to get a modern heating unit installed before winter settled over the city, and he thought about getting the windows insulated. 

But, despite all his planning, he really only had one place left to clean: Dante’s room.

He’d taken a peek into the old man’s bedroom when he first arrived but, once he figured out what it was, he’d shut the door and let it be. Nero didn’t want to enter a clearly private part of Dante’s home at that point, but there was another reason why he hadn’t gone in.

Even though the Qliphoth’s bullshit had stopped all the way back in the summer, Nero still felt hurt by the twins’ sudden departure. He’d only just learned he had a family, with living relatives and everything, and as soon as he figured it out and made peace between Dante and Vergil, they up and fucking left. 

He’d always think of Kyrie and the kids as his family, but… it felt way too similar to when Dante first left Fortuna, but ten times worse. Back then, he could find the phone number for Devil May Cry and catch up with the old man, but it wasn’t like he could make a collect call to Hell.

So, yeah, going into his (possibly dead) uncle’s bedroom was a lot to deal with. Not only emotionally, but… if the office space looked like a twister ran through it, he doubted that this would be any cleaner.

But, no matter his personal hang-ups, Nero did want to go into the room. If not just to finish up cleaning, then to possibly learn more about his ‘uncle.’ 

With nothing else to do, Nero took a steadying breath, twisted the door knob, and entered ground zero. It had been raining most of the day, which meant that only a little light came through the windows on the opposite wall, further obstructed by the dust and grime that had settled on the glass. Nero looked around, finding a light switch on the wall and flicking it on. The single bulb overhead flickered, glowing brighter and brighter before shattering, the glass shards falling to the floor.

“Alright, so, need to change _ that.” _ Nero griped, summoning his spectral arms to act as a substitute light source. It wasn’t _ ideal, _ but he wasn’t going to try and find a flashlight or lightbulb just yet, not before he knew everything he needed to do.

Dante’s room was just a cruder version of the main office. And by ‘crude,’ Nero meant that, instead of pizza boxes and random papers strewn about, there were crumbling pin-up posters lining the walls and piles of clothes instead. The bed sheets were wrinkled and stained with… something, Nero didn’t want to know what, and the thin, hole-ridden blanket was pulled halfway off the bed.

And finally, hidden under the layer of dust coating the whole room, Nero could smell… Dante. Gunpowder, leather, and a faint hint of whiskey. The office didn’t carry the same smell, but plenty of people came and went so it made sense that his scent was strongest in his personal room.

Nero felt like a sledgehammer had swung directly into his heart, and the ache he’d been ignoring returned full force. 

His mind flashed back to when he’d gone to the funeral for Kyrie and Credo’s parents. They were high up in the Order’s ranks when they passed, so damn near everyone on the island went voluntarily, or were forced to go by the soldiers. It was the first funeral Nero had ever experienced. The incense that burned was cloying and thick, and Nero couldn’t cough or cover his mouth because it… well, it was a funeral. He had no choice but to stand there and choke quietly, trying to hold back the instinctive urge to clear his throat.

That was sort of how he felt now. Seeing Devil May Cry hadn’t affected Nero too badly, because he’d never been there before. There was a certain level of disconnect between Nero’s perception of Dante and the office itself—for fuck’s sake, there was a _ fake plant _ in the main office; the Dante he knew would never—so being there hadn’t hurt.

But Nero knew that Dante was crude, and he knew what he wore, and he knew what Dante smelled like. It was like everything in the bedroom was laid out specifically to sucker punch him in the gut.

Dazed, Nero stumbled over to Dante’s bed and flops onto the mattress. A plume of dust rose from the sudden jolt, and Dante’s old, somewhat faded scent came through unfiltered.

Nero’s eyes burned, and he rubbed at them with a growl. God dammit, he didn’t cry when Dante and Vergil first left, so why was he crying now, of _ all _times?

“Fuck…” Nero mumbled then, a little stupidly, shoved his face into Dante’s pillow. Nero took a deep breath in, the scent of artificial strawberries filling his nose. Dante’s shampoo, probably; almost completely hidden under the dust and the other, more prominent scents in the room. He felt… empty, like someone had carved a deep, yawning hole in his gut that _ yearned. _

Nero wasn’t a child anymore, but it was hard to not cry out, wanting for something he could never have.

Nero laughed pitifully, wiping at his stupid, wet eyes. He hugged the pillow close to his chest and pulled the scratchy blanket over his body. It was cold, the winter chill seeping into the room, but like this, Nero almost felt held.

Welp, so much for forgetting his crush.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before we get started, couple things!
> 
> First thing's first: I have increased the chapter count to four now! Chapter 2 was getting waaaaay too long and it felt better both for length and for theme to cut it in two. Chapter 3 will be coming sooner as a result, because it's about 75% written, and I just need to wrap up and then edit it.
> 
> Second thing: I've updated the tags as mentioned before. Please check them again to see if anything alarms you! For those who don't want to trudge their way through, the biggest warnings will be listed here:
> 
> **This chapter covers: Discussions of past amputation (Nero mentioning his Devil Bringer being removed by Vergil in DMC5) and symptoms of PTSD (nightmares, flashbacks, paranoia, and an obvious distrust of Vergil). If any of these topics disturb you, please be cautious while reading, and inform me if I need to add anything else to the tags.**

Against his better judgement, Nero started sleeping in Dante’s room.

It was easily the stupidest thing he’d ever done, and he’s including charging at Urizen with no backup as one of said things. What he needed to do was stop, clean up the room, and move on. Indulging in this wouldn’t stop his feelings any time soon, and would only serve to harm him. He knew this.

But he couldn’t help himself. It was like a drug, he kept coming back for more, despite knowing that he’d fall asleep yearning and wake up disappointed—not only at himself for giving in, but at the childish want for Dante to be there getting crushed.

He tried rationalizing it, at first. He just missed Dante. It didn’t mean anything. It was starting to get cold, and the bedroom was warmer than the main office. The bed was easier on his back than the lumpy couch. 

Then, he started making excuses. He only did it every once in a while. It wasn’t like Nero was doing anything inappropriate in the bed. Once he washed the sheets, no one would ever know.

He cleaned up the broken glass and replaced the lightbulb, he dusted the room and cleaned the windows, but he didn’t touch anything that was specifically _ Dante. _ He didn’t clean the sheets, clinging onto his scent for as long as possible, even if it hurt him.

Eventually, it got to the point where he imagined what other people in his life would say if they saw him. Lady and Trish would probably laugh at him. Nico’d drag him out of the office and force him to get away and clear his head. Kyrie would be sad, gently asking him why he felt the way he did, and he’d only shut down, unable to explain the depths of his… _ obsession. _

And yet, despite everything his mind conjured up, he still indulged. He held old pillows close, found a blanket that had been thrown in a closet that still had a slight hint of Dante’s scent woven into the fabric. 

He’d fall asleep and wake up with the familiar ache pulsing in his chest, and hate himself just a little more.

* * *

Nero charged forward with an enraged yell, the sound echoing and building into a roar with the church’s acoustics. The crowd of Order soldiers parted, clearing a path to the altar where Dante stood, Rebellion resting on his shoulder as he raised Ivory, trigger at the ready.

Nero wouldn’t give him the chance, pulling Blue Rose from its holster and firing a charged shot. Dante dodged to the left, the bullets breaking into shards of metal and energy. While Nero would have loved to draw first blood, Dante’s dodge put him directly into the path of Nero’s sword.

Sparks flew from the blades as they clashed, the metal heating as they pushed against each other. A ray of light from above hit Nero’s eyes and he blinked, Dante taking the opportunity to dart away, spinning and jumping wildly as he dodged Nero’s bullets, all while throwing out jovial taunts.

With a snarl, Nero jumped atop the scattered church pews, using them as platforms to gain height and speed as he leapt at Dante. He blocked, of course, but Nero used his momentum to swing his legs forward and wrap them around Dante’s waist. Straddling the older hunter mid-air, Nero used his additional weight to force Dante to the ground. 

Nero didn’t get to revel in pinning Dante for long, the other man recovering and grabbing Nero’s throat while pushing Red Queen away with Rebellion. Nero gasped raggedly and reeled back, a shiver running down his spine. The moment of weakness was enough for Dante to knock Red Queen out of his hand and push Nero back so that he was on top. 

Dante leaned close, a smug smirk on his face as he brushed his thumb over Nero’s pulse. Nero pressed his lips together, but despite his best efforts, a whimper escaped him. Dante chuckled, the sound reverberating in the silence of the church.

_ Where did the other soldiers go? _ Nero wondered as he laid there, his body feeling electrified yet heavy. _ Where did I put Blue Rose? _

The questions slipped from his mind, like grains of sand through a strainer as Dante replaced his hand with his lips, nibbling at Nero’s adam’s apple. Nero sighed, rolling his hips against Dante’s thigh, a gentle wave of pleasure rolling over his body.

“What’s the matter?” Dante pulled away, panting. “Why the glare?”

“What glare?” Nero asked, but he didn’t move his lips. He cupped Dante’s hips, the Bringer’s(?) claws digging into Dante’s coat. Dante placed his hand over Nero’s throat, using it as leverage to press his leg against Nero’s crotch. Nero moaned, the sound breathy and high as blood rushed to his head from lack of oxygen. 

“Kid?” Nero looked up at Dante, but something was… off. The cathedral, despite the glass ceiling and it being the middle of the day, was dark. He felt Dante grab his shoulder and shake him, but his hands didn’t move. The hard marble floor felt… weirdly soft, almost conforming to his body. “Nero.”

Nero tensed, his mind shaking off the fog that had settled over it. The cathedral dissolved into the familiar darkness of Dante’s room. Fuck, did he really have a wet dream about Dante? Seriously?

But, above him, Dante hadn’t disappeared. Nero blinked repeatedly, trying to shake off the last vestiges of his dream, but the afterimage refused to fade. His face scrunched up in confusion, Nero tried to lift himself up, only for him to realize there was a heavy, warm hand on his shoulder.

Dante smirked down at him, shaking his shoulder. “You back in the realm of the living, kid?”

Nero took in a shaky breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had to be hallucinating, or maybe he awoken from one dream, only to enter another. He’d heard of weirder things. Nero refused to believe that Dante had chosen to return from Hell not only in the middle of the night, but on the night Nero had a wet dream about the same man.

“Perhaps you should leave him be, brother.”

Ah, there was the other shoe.

There was probably a good five seconds where Nero’s memory drew up a large blank. One second, he was on the bed with Dante holding his shoulder, slowly waking up and realizing _ oh, Dante’s back, holy shit. _ The next, his spectral wings cast bright blue light across Dante’s bedroom, the claws sunk deep into the wooden walls as Nero snarled furiously because—

Vergil was here. Currently pinned to the wall by Nero—one spectral arm holding him by the neck, the other by his waist, the Yamato pressed between it and Vergil’s body, no weapon at the ready but he could still summon swords—as he stared impassively down at him. Nero’s instincts screamed that there was a powerful enemy that had drawn close while he was asleep, that he was lucky he was alive, that he should _ kill _ this intruder, who had severely wounded him in the past and wandered into _ his _ territory, as swiftly as possible before he could do it again—

_ (the smell of car oil and blood and grease and blood blood blood pouring out beneath him pain arm gone pain pain pain why get back here no no nono _ ** _noNO)_ **

Dante’s arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him back slightly, but his wings still held Vergil against the wall. Nero’s heartbeat, echoed by the rhythmic pounding in his head, slowed to where he could hear Dante clearly. “—christ, _ Nero, _ calm down!”

Nero’s fingers twitched at his side, itching for weapons that weren’t there (he left them downstairs, by the couch, like a _ moron) _ . He broke eye contact with Vergil and looked over his shoulder at Dante, doing his best to ignore his instincts screaming at him to not look away from the biggest threat in the room. “What is _ he _ doing here.”

Dante frowned, the light from Nero’s arms emphasizing the lines of his face. “Did you really think I’d leave him in Hell?”

The angry, vindictive part of Nero, buzzing around the back of his mind like a pissed off wasp, wanted to snarl ‘yes.’ However, as Nero’s brain start to actually _ work, _ he realized that… no, Dante wouldn’t do that. He was a sentimental fool and, as fucked up as he was, Vergil was Dante’s brother. Even if he weren’t, it would be a smart precaution to make sure Vergil couldn’t sever himself again and create another power hungry demon king, or raise another Qliphoth and damage the veil between worlds even further.

But Nero wasn’t going to admit that. Not after waking up in a panicked frenzy and pinning Vergil to the wall, and _ especially _ after months of tending to the shop and cursing Dante out for leaving in the first place. Instead, Nero bared his teeth, and said, “Did you forget that he ripped off my arm? And that he tried to kill me multiple times?”

“Nero…” Dante looked defeated because yeah, he couldn’t exactly argue that Vergil _ didn’t _ do that. 

“During those ‘times,’ I was not myself.” Nero instinctively tightened his grip on Vergil when he spoke, but he appeared unbothered by the hand around his throat. “Just as I am not V, Urizen is not me. _ I _ did not exist.”

“Are you serious?” Nero held up his right, human arm. “Alright then, how about when you basically amputated me and I fell into a coma for two weeks? Were you the fucking tooth fairy?”

“Nero, that’s enough.” Dante growled, grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull him back. “It’s late, Vergil and I need to rest, and so do you. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“There’s nothing _ to _talk about, Dante. He needs to leave.” Nero’s eyes flicked between the two of them, and he mentally weighed the odds of him winning a fight, if he needed to. Nero was exhausted, but not as much as the twins were from traversing Hell. Even with the differences in power between them, and the disadvantage of fighting two-on-one, he could probably just scrape by. At the very least, he could toss Vergil’s ass out the door.

Dante growled, the sound deep and inhuman as his eyes glowed a vibrant amber and he shoved at Nero’s shoulder, nearly toppling him over. “You are in _ my _ home, Nero. Vergil is staying here. If you don’t like it, then you can leave.”

Something ugly twisted in Nero’s gut at Dante because, god dammit, the apartment was practically Nero’s at this point with how well he’d taken care of it. But Nero was painfully aware that he’d crossed some sort of line with Dante and, even if he hated Vergil, he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with Dante.

Besides, Dante was a full grown idiot that could make his own moronic decisions. If he wanted to keep Vergil here, and Vergil killed him somewhere down the line, then that was his fault.

…Dante would always pick Vergil over him, huh?

“…Fine.” Nero dismissed his arms, letting Vergil go. Vergil fell to the floor, unable to gather his legs underneath him.

Nero ignored it—what the fuck did he care if Vergil was _ tired, _ bastard deserved a hell of a lot more than being a little winded—and made for the door. He called over his shoulder, “If he comes downstairs without you, I’m cutting off _ his _ arm.”

There was a snort behind him. Nero couldn’t tell which twin made the noise. That ugly feeling came back when he imagined who did. Was it Vergil, out of contempt and to mask any show of weakness, or Dante, who was sick of Nero’s shit and wanted him gone for overstepping invisible boundaries that, up until five minutes ago, didn't exist?

Nero supposed it didn’t matter. He was going back to the couch and sleeping off whatever emotions decided to crawl out of the sewer that was his brain in the wee hours of the morning. He’d never had trouble falling asleep in the past, so it should be fine.

* * *

Nero tossed and turned, he laid in every position he could possibly twist himself onto, he counted sheep, he made himself a glass of warm milk, and he _ still _couldn’t fall asleep. 

It felt like someone had stuck a metal mesh under his skin and electrocuted him whenever he got close to drifting off. He couldn’t tell if it was paranoia keeping him awake, or if the sudden rush of adrenaline refused to burn off, or something else entirely. Either way, he never managed more than a couple minutes of rest before he would startle and look around the room, expecting to see Vergil’s cold, glowing eyes looming over him, the Yamato drawn at the ready.

When he went downstairs, he glanced at the clock mounted on the wall and felt physically ill at the early hour. He had no clue when he fell asleep earlier, but he certainly wouldn’t get any more rest for the night. He was already _ dreading _ having to fix his sleeping schedule.

Dawn came, the early rays catching on the still-lingering rain droplets on the front windows. Another hour passed, the sunlight growing stronger, but it did little to chase away the winter chill. Shivering slightly, Nero gave in and stood from the couch, grabbing his coat from the rack in the corner. The extra layer helped and, since he was already up, he decided he’d go to the kitchen and try to make something warm for breakfast.

There wasn’t much. Nero hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a while, mostly because he was too busy with jobs. A part of him was tempted to try and make a quick run to the store two blocks down, but he dismissed it almost immediately. He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that if he left, something terrible would happen.

In the end, he settled on searching through the cabinets, and he managed to find some oatmeal. He knew he had milk and he’d paid the water bills, so it wasn’t a hard choice to make. It was quick to cook, warm, and he’d make enough for some leftovers later.

Nero heard the floorboards above him creek around the time the milk began boiling. He tensed, grabbing his gun holster and Red Queen from behind the desk before he went back into the kitchen to finish cooking. He never took his eyes off the doorway, his fingers running over Blue Rose’s holster. He knew bullets wouldn’t do much against Vergil, but the kitchen was tiny, and Nero was _ not _ about to wreck it by sword fighting.

Nero had gone back to the couch and was halfway through his bowl of oatmeal when the twins appeared at the top of the staircase. They were leaning on each other—Vergil had his arm draped over Dante’s shoulder, while Dante had an arm wrapped around Vergil’s waist—and they took the stairs one at a time, Dante’s remaining free hand tight on the banister. 

In the morning light (and without being addled by panic and adrenaline pumping through his veins), the twins looked like deep-fried shit. They were covered in splotches of dried blood and mud, their clothes dirty and torn. Their hair was matted with visible, dark clumps of… _ something _ tangled in there, and Nero could see deep, dark bags under their eyes.

Nero felt his heart twinge, a frown flashing across his face before he could school it into a neutral expression. Nico often teased him for having a heart of gold, helping out so many people that he didn’t care if he got a reward, recognition, anything. She made it sound like a bad thing, and he scoffed, waving away her cigarette smoke as he asked for his order of Devil Breakers. Being sympathetic and, to a certain extent, empathetic for others wasn’t a bad thing in Nero’s book, it just meant he had to be cautious.

Now he could see why Nico thought so negatively of it. He shouldn’t feel pity for his fa—for… Vergil, especially after everything he’d done, but it was hard not to feel… _ something _ as he watched them hobble down the stairs. Once they reached the bottom, Vergil did his best to stand straight, but he didn’t shake off Dante’s grip, and Nero could see his legs faintly trembling.

Feeling like an outsider—well, he _ was, _ but still—Nero bit the bullet. “Need help?”

“No.” Vergil immediately growled, glaring at Nero. 

Dante rolled his eyes and adjusted his grip on Vergil’s waist. “Tearing a portal between worlds drained him more than we thought it would. Think you could give up the couch so he could sit down?”

“I do not need to_ sit, _ Dante.” The second he finished his sentence, Vergil’s legs buckled beneath his weight. The only thing keeping him upright was Dante’s grip on him, and even then, Dante groaned at the strain.

Nero pursed his lips and let out a dramatic sigh, standing from the couch. “I needed to put my bowl in the sink, anyways.”

“The water’s on?” Dante looked genuinely surprised.

“The power, to.” Nero shrugged as he passed the twins, looking over his shoulder to keep talking, and to keep an eye on Vergil. “I’ve been meaning to get a heating system. That’s pretty much the only thing left to do.”

“Huh.” Nero heard the twins’ footsteps dragging along the wooden floor as they made their way to the couch. Nero did his best to ignore how not being able to see them made his anxiety skyrocket as he cleaned the bowl out and placed it on the counter to dry.

Returning to the office, Nero was… somewhat pleased to see Dante at his desk, sitting in his chair with his feet up on the desk, while Vergil was propped on the couch. Like Dante’s room, Nero barely touched Dante’s desk and chair beyond dusting and polishing the wood, another personal thing that Nero avoided. Seeing Dante there felt… _ right. _

Of course, Vergil being on the couch meant that Nero had nowhere else to sit, unless he wanted to perch himself atop the rickety pool table. He settled for leaning against the wall instead, keeping his eyes on Vergil.

It was obvious that he’d seen better days, to say the least. There was a brief clash in Nero’s mind; the man he met atop the Qliphoth was a completely different person compared to the man currently sitting on the couch. Nero could see a minute treble in his shoulders, and he was breathing heavily, despite only having gone down a flight of stairs and crossing the room. He kept his hand on Yamato’s hilt, his grip tensing and relaxing periodically, as if to reassure himself that the blade was present, ready to be drawn.

Nero had the sudden revelation that the only reason why he was able to pin Vergil to the wall last night, and why Dante didn’t pull him away, was because the two were so exhausted they physically _ couldn’t. _ The thought hit a discordant note within Nero, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable, fidgeting restlessly as the awkward silence persisted.

Dante cleared his throat, the sudden noise making Nero jump, as he propped his legs up on the desk. “God, I really want a pizza.”

“Don’t have one on hand, but I’m pretty sure you have the pizza place’s number memorized.” Nero joked, his eyes briefly flicking to Dante’s relaxed posture. He shared most of Vergil’s tells of how exhausted he was—shaking limbs, heavy breathing, finger twitching restlessly—and Nero felt a brief flash of sympathy for him. “There’s some leftover oatmeal if you’re desperate.”

“Maybe later.” Dante grimaced, adjusting how he was sitting. “So, how long have you been here?”

Ah, avoiding the topic by bringing up something else entirely. Classic Dante. “Couple months, give or take. Mostly kept the place clean and payed the bills.”

“Really?” Dante chuckled. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Nero scratched his nose. “Whatever. Just didn’t want the place to rot.”

Vergil hummed. “A couple months would be long enough.”

Nero couldn’t refrain from tensing up at Vergil’s voice. “…Long enough for what?”

“For your demon to claim this building as its territory.”

The answer threw Nero off so badly that he could feel his brain blue screen as he tried to process it. Dante clicked his tongue and looked to his left. “C’mon, we agreed we wouldn’t just throw that out there.”

“But we can agree that that is a possibility.” Vergil leaned forward—not by much, but enough to where he looked more serious than exhausted—and stared Nero in the eye. “Which would make your departure more of a health risk than an annoyance.”

Nero’s brain finally rebooted. “Wait, hold on,_ what?” _

Dante sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “While we were upstairs, Vergil and I talked about why you attacked him and refused to leave. We threw out the idea that, if you were here for a while, then your demon might’ve staked a claim on the building, and wouldn’t like two fully grown demons sneaking up on you in ‘your territory’ while you were asleep.”

Nero felt rage pool in his stomach, and he reached for Red Queen. “Are you trying to say I freaked out over some stupid demon shit? That I shouldn’t have attacked that fucker for trying to kill me?”

“No! Nero, take a breath.” Dante held up his hands, leaning away a bit. “The whole claiming territory idea isn’t to try and say you were in the wrong and shouldn’t have attacked him. I mean, you saw how I reacted when V went back to Vergil. I know how badly brother dearest over there deserves an ass kicking.”

Vergil grunted, but otherwise didn’t protest. Nero remembered what it was like, watching the illusory house shatter around them and exposing the Qliphoth’s gory innards, Vergil appearing from the pillar of light. It was one of the few times where Nero saw Dante genuinely angry, primed and ready to murder something that wasn’t entirely demonic.

“What we are trying to say,” Vergil spoke up, and Nero’s attention focused on him. “Is that, if you really did claim this the office as yours, your demon is going to react negatively if you leave, regardless of my presence.”

_ “And,” _ Dante piped up before Nero could say anything. “Until your demon realizes that the office is shared and not just yours, we’d like you to stay here.”

_ “What?” _ Nero practically recoiled at the idea.

Vergil, apparently, had a somewhat similar reaction, glaring at Dante. “We did not discuss this, brother.”

“C’mon, it’s a good idea! Nero’s demon learns to share, you can learn more about Nero, and I get working power, water, _ and _ a clean house. No one loses!”

Nero wanted to smack that smug grin off Dante’s face and, if it weren’t for his weakened state, Nero was willing to bet Vergil wanted to do the same. “I’m not going to fucking stay here with _ him.” _

“Well, Vergil ain’t leaving, so…” Dante shrugged, placed his feet on the floor, and picked up the phone. “You can call the docks to figure out when the next ferry is leaving for Fortuna.”

“Fuck you.” Nero snarled and turned on his heel, exiting the office and slamming the door behind him, barely resisting the urge to flip off the twins before he left. Bastards could deal with their bullshit on their own time, he was done.

* * *

After an hour of his anxiety and paranoia going through the fucking roof, Nero was willing to admit that Dante and Vergil _might_ have made a half-way decent point.

Oh, he knew when the ferries ran. He’d called Nico over a few times to act as transport for a job, and he often helped her figure out which ferries she could take to lessen how long she’d have to stay. He knew that the earliest ferry would be leaving soon, and he knew he had enough money in his pocket to buy a ticket and get back to Fortuna. He’d get his personal belongings later—or maybe never. He didn’t leave anything that couldn’t be easily replaced, and the twins would probably appreciate having some extra clothes.

But, the moment he left the block Devil May Cry was on, he was blindsided by the wave of panic and anger that slammed into him. He actually staggered and had to place his hand on the wall to steady himself while he waited for it to abate.

It did not abate. In fact, the further he went, the worse he felt, until he had to stop and sit on the curb, putting his head between his legs to try and fight off a wave of nausea.

Was this what Vergil meant by ‘reacting negatively?’ Understatement of the year, if that was the case. He felt like he’d chugged an entire bottle of Vodka before running a marathon. 

With a frustrated grunt, Nero stood, swaying slightly as another wave of nausea hit him. Once the ground stopped spinning, Nero turned back around to take a walk of shame back to the office. 

He muttered a long string of curses when the nausea faded immediately.

He made his displeasure known by slamming the front door open, a sick satisfaction filling him when it swung hard enough to hit the wall.

“So?” Dante asked from his chair. It looked like he hadn’t moved, but he had one of the magazines from the pile on the pool table in hand, flicking through the pages lazily. Vergil was leaning back on the couch, Yamato placed over his lap with his eyes closed. The only indication he was awake was the slight twitch of his brow when the door slammed open.

“I fucking hate the both of you.” Nero growled, storming into the kitchen when he, very belatedly, realized he’d never properly stored the oatmeal. “You better take a shower, assholes! I’m not cleaning up whatever filth you jackasses dragged in with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some fun things happened this chapter, huh?
> 
> I've read a fair amount of fics that somewhat address Nero's hangups with abandonment and everything Vergil's done, but most of the time, they have both characters be really apologetic and make up REALLY quick? Not throwing any shade, of course, and I'm writing a fucking incestuous threesome fic, but that's not gonna happen here. Nero has some serious anxiety based around Vergil, and Vergil himself is... well, he's a hardass. 
> 
> Forgiveness and making up for past mistakes (which is putting things VERY lightly) won't be happening easily. Just because Nero and Vergil will end up having sex (and that WILL happen), doesn't mean things immediately go from "i hate you" to "i love you!" in the span of a couple days. It'll take a while to get to a point where they're all comfortable with each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goshhhh, you guys!!! Impulse Control has 1,000 hits! Thank you all so much!!!!
> 
> However, and I really, _really_ hate to do this, especially with how this chapter ends, but I honestly don't know when the next chapter of Impulse Control will come, but it definitely won't be soon. As I am writing this note, I have basically the rest of November booked, and chapter 4 is going to be a difficult write for me. As of writing this note, the things I have to do this month are:
> 
> \- A language event I have to go to for my ASL class  
\- Three separate, hour long tests that are basically one-after-the-other (i have, like a ten minute break between each one) next week that I can't move around or have done on a different day.  
\- A doctor's AND a dentist's appointment which will both drain me MASSIVELY  
\- Thanksgiving, which requires me not only cooking a dish for my family, but also travelling. In the freezing cold. By car. For several hours.
> 
> All of this stuff requires a lot of time to prep for (studying, cooking, etc.) And that's the non-fandom related stuff. I'm also participating in a Secret Santa event and, since that fic has an actual deadline, I want to focus on writing that. Thankfully, that one's about 60% done already, but that'll be my priority for the foreseeable future.
> 
> So, yeah. Impulse Control is sort of on hiatus, but not really, and the final chapter won't come soon. If I'm lucky and can squeeze some stuff in every now and again, the chapter MAY come in the days before Thanksgiving, but it's more likely that it'll come around early December rather than within the next week or so. I feel bad holding off for so long, but I really have to manage my workload properly, and that means putting some stuff on hold. I'm sorry guys :(
> 
> **EDIT:** jfc i'm sorry i forgot to add the page breaks. If you read this before they had them, everything's been clarified/broken up properly now!

The solution to the territory problem was ‘simple,’ according to Dante. Nero’s demon saw the office as its home base, and Dante and Vergil were trespassers. All they had to do was stick together until it got the message that Devil May Cry was _ not _ its property, and that the twins weren’t enemies about to kill him in his sleep. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Nero called bullshit on… everything, really. Dante was comfortable with Vergil’s presence, but Nero certainly _ wasn’t. _ On top of having lived alone for the past few months and adjusting to people living in the same place as him again, Nero wasn’t comfortable with Vergil on _ any _ level, and he personally doubted that would change any time soon. 

He broke out in a cold sweat whenever he couldn’t see or hear Vergil, which was surprisingly frequent because, despite having a tall and imposing figure, the fucker was _ quiet. _ It was the only parallel Nero could make between him and V and, really, he hated it because Vergil could easily sneak up on him, and Nero wouldn’t know until it was too late. It didn’t help that Dante and Vergil decided to share Dante’s bed, while Nero had to sleep on the couch, an entire floor and a closed door between them, where Vergil could do whatever he wanted in his quiet, sneaky way, and Nero would be none the wiser.

It took a _ long _ time for Nero to fall asleep the night after they returned and, even then, he didn’t exactly feel well rested when he woke up. He relived the day where his Devil Bringer was amputated in his dreams, waking up with a gasp as he immediately grasped his right arm, feeling the smooth skin instead of a blank space. When he wasn’t reliving his trauma, he saw Vergil standing over him, Yamato and his coat soaked in Dante’s dark, rich blood. Sometimes it was him arriving at the Qliphoth too late and seeing one of the brothers dead. The dream never specified which, just showed him dark scales and wings in an expanding pool of blood before he’d jolt awake, holding back a scream and panicked tears.

When it became obvious that Nero was getting almost no sleep, Dante took it upon himself to convert one of the store rooms into Nero’s personal bedroom. Having his own mattress helped, but only slightly because now, instead of paranoia surrounding Vergil killing Dante, Nero was now terrified that Vergil would sneak across the hall and kill him in his sleep. 

Vergil, as much as he hated to admit it, _ scared _ him. He didn’t have that connection that Dante did, and only knew Vergil as ‘powerful demon who ripped off his arm and thought splitting his soul in two would be a good idea.’ He had no clue how to approach Vergil about any of this without risking a fight.

And, even if he _ did, _ none of them were all that great with discussing their feelings. At least, not in a way that was calm and would resolve things, given Dante’s track record and Vergil having the empathetic and social skills of a potato. Feelings and trauma were complicated, and the brothers seemed to only be able to settle things through fighting instead of talking things out.

So none of them made any progress. They just… existed. Nothing got better, but nothing got worse, and they drifted through the days as they tried to just fix all their problems on their own.

'Simple.' Yeah, right. Nothing in their family was ‘simple.’ He should know that much by now.

* * *

The mandatory movie night thing was Dante’s idea.

Hidden away under a pile of ancient, dirty clothes that Nero hadn’t touched, was a small stack of so-bad-they’re-good movies, according to Dante. Of course, with Vergil stuck in Hell for twenty-some-odd-years and Nero living in a cult that controlled every tiny bit of media that made it onto the island, they had no clue what the hell the movies were. 

Since the twins had nothing better to do since they were regaining their energy and slowly but surely getting back on a food-based diet (Nero was absolutely _ not _ going to ask them what they ate, but according to them, their bodies needed time to adjust back), Dante thought it would be a brilliant idea to have them sit through his collection together.

“See, we get a lot more out of this then some fun, family bonding.” He explained, holding up the various DVD cases. It took all of Nero’s energy not to scoff when he said ‘family.’ “We get to catch you two up on modern classics, _ and _ we get to eat popcorn.”

_ “Can _you eat popcorn?” Nero asked, because there was no incentive in the world that would make him clean up Dante’s puke, not after the toilet. 

“Yeah! Well, maybe.” Dante let that hang in the air for a few seconds. “Hopefully.” 

Despite Nero’s many, _ many _ problems with the idea, he didn’t have the heart to dismiss it. Dante looked so happy at the thought of watching his movies, and having all of them together, and _ dammit, _ Dante could probably convince him to jump off a cliff with a smile like that.

(Not like he’d let the old man in on that, but he wasn’t exactly hiding it well.)

To Nero’s surprise, Vergil agreed. Maybe he didn’t want to fight Dante over it, or maybe he was as susceptible to Dante’s kind-hearted smile as Nero was. Maybe he wanted an excuse to be around the both of them without exposing that he cared about them. 

Ha, yeah, right. 

They had to move the furniture around, but the set up worked. Every night, Dante would gather both of them in the main office, select one of the disks, and they’d watch it (and make fun of the shitty acting and storyline) before heading to bed. Nero normally sat on one end of the couch and Vergil on the other with Dante squeezed between them, the bowl of popcorn on his lap. 

Tonight, Dante had selected _ Troll 2. _ It had a weird premise, but the acting was slow and the plot had some weird parallels with the Qliphoth, so Nero wasn’t exactly enjoying himself. But, at some point, Vergil had fallen asleep and slumped against Dante. It was the first time Nero had seen the man relaxed, and he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and call it quits in fear of waking him.

“How’re you holding up?” The question was a hushed whisper and, with his mind drifting to random, inane thoughts, Nero thought it was a line from the movie at first. When it finally clicked that Dante had asked him something, he felt a tiny flash of anger (was that really the question Dante was gonna ask him? Really?) but it was quickly suffocated by Nero’s overwhelming exhaustion. 

He didn’t want to fight. He just… he wanted things to _ work. _ He wanted to be able to live somewhat normally. He wanted to be able to leave the apartment without feeling like was going to throw up. He wanted a family. If that meant tolerating Dante and Vergil’s bullshit, then he could deal.

“Been better, honestly.” Nero’s right arm spasmed, and he made a fist to remind himself that, yes, it was there, and no, he wasn’t going to punch him. “Been a hell of a lot worse, too.”

“Figured as much.” Dante’s hand moved up to Vergil’s head, carding through the slicked-back strands. Vergil twitched briefly, then sagged, relaxing against his brother. Something bitter rose in the back of Nero’s throat, and he forced himself to look away, watching as the characters in the movie got covered in green slime that looked more like Jello. “But I meant about him. Us. Being here.”

“I hate the territory shit, I’ll tell you that much.” Nero chuckled mirthlessly. “…Glad you’re alive, if that’s what your asking.”

“The sentiment is definitely appreciated.” Dante nudged Nero’s arm with his hand, and the contact was… nice. His arm didn’t spasm again, and Dante was absurdly warm. He… well, he never really had the pleasure of Dante’s company before now, but now, he adored it. 

“I have to ask,” Nero began. Dante hummed, letting him know he was listening. “While you guys were gone… you didn’t just say ‘bygones be bygones’ and forgive him, right?”

“Eh, yes and no.” Dante shrugged his free shoulder. “I mean, we talked a fair bit, and certain things came up. We talked about stuff that happened between us, and I forgave him for what he did to _ me. _ I didn’t give him a pass for all the other crap he did, including what he did to you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Nero muttered.

Dante turned his head to look at Nero. “Look, I know I haven’t been… the best since coming back. But I just… I thought Vergil was dead for a good twenty years. And now, he’s here! He’s alive! I don’t have a lot of good things in my life, but you and Vergil? You’re definitely up there. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Nero bit his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “Do you… think he regrets it? I mean, V seemed to be pretty pissed at Urizen, but, like Vergil said, he isn’t V.”

“Eh, I’m not a mind reader. Plus, Vergil’s a pretty different person from when we were younger, so even I can’t understand him sometimes—”

Nero snorted _ “Great _ start.”

“—but that’s a good thing. Not the ‘not understanding’ part, but the ‘him being different’ part. If you met Vergil and me when we were teens, I’m pretty sure you’d kick our asses seven ways to Sunday.” A small silence passed, filled with terribly acted screams from the TV. “I think he regrets it. Enough that he wants to change from the person he used to be, and whoever that is will be a better person.”

It wasn’t the kind answer Nero expected from Dante, but he could see where Dante was coming from. If Nero had to compare Vergil to anyone, then… he’d have to pick Credo. If Credo came back from the dead and did the exact same things Vergil had done, then Nero would give him a second chance. Because he knew Credo, and he loved him and, even if it seemed stupid, he’d want to help Credo recover.

If Vergil was attempting something similar, trying to be a better person despite past mistakes, then… well, Nero couldn’t fault Dante for giving him a second chance.

Of course, Nero was still going to give him shit for the stuff Vergil did, and he wasn’t going to be buddy-buddy with either of them come tomorrow morning. Just because Vergil was trying didn’t mean Nero had to magically forget all of his past transgressions to make Dante happy.

“So, question for a question, kid.” Dante turned his head to look at Nero, the TV’s ambient light casting long shadows across his face. “Did you really think we’d never come back?”

Nero frowned. He had hoped, during those first days following the Dante’s fall to Hell, he’d just… show up. That severing the last of the Qliphoth’s roots would only take a week, max, before he’d show up with a quick one-liner and tell Nero that he was dumb for ever worrying about him. 

But then the first week passed, and the second, a month, two, and there were no signs of anything. He kept hoping, but as jobs started to decrease in quantity and summer moved into fall, he felt like he was clinging to smoke. Nero wondered then, sitting on that lumpy couch as the movie plodded on, if Kyrie encouraged him to go to the office not out of her usual kindness, but because she thought it would help him ‘move on.’ 

He was used to getting left behind—he’d dealt with that ever since he was an infant—so it wasn’t anything new, but it still hurt. Especially since he had the opportunity to have a father and an uncle, something considered a miracle back in the orphanage, only for them to just… _ leave. _ Like learning they were family wasn’t important.

Nero didn’t say any of that. Honestly, he didn’t know how to put all of that into words and, even though Dante was the more… empathetic, so to say, of the twins, there was a cynical part of Nero convinced that Dante would laugh at his explanation.

Instead, he rolled his shoulders, put up a casual front, and said, “I took care of the shop, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Dante replied flatly, letting the non-answer lay as the trashy horror movie continued.

* * *

“I’ve slighted you.” Vergil said, completely unprompted, as he sat across from Nero. 

Nero’s spoonful of cereal paused halfway to his mouth as he stared at Vergil’s purposefully neutral expression. He almost wished for the awkward silence from five minutes ago to return, because he doubted this conversation would be any better. _ “Slighted _ feels like an understatement.”

“Perhaps.”

It’d only been a few weeks since Dante and Vergil had returned, and only a couple days since Nero and Dante had their odd ‘heart to heart’ on the couch. There had been a fair amount of adjustments made around the office, beyond the new furniture arrangements. 

One of the biggest things was that Nero turned down almost every job Morrison offered him, instead telling him to ask Lady or Trish. It was for the best, really. The twins needed time to rest and adjust, Nero couldn’t really leave the office at the moment, and they didn’t need anyone dropping in unannounced to harp on them. He hadn’t even called Kyrie about it (though some comforting words would be _ great _ right about now). As far as anyone was aware, this was just a bad time for him.

The second thing was food. Since the twins couldn’t really eat anything, Nero had took it upon himself to drag the twins out to the local grocery store to shop for anything that would help them adjust quicker. It was an incredibly weird experience that Nero would never want to repeat again but, at the end of the day, the office’s refrigerator (Nero took pride in seeing Dante’s pleasantly surprised expression when he saw the new one) was now lined with cups of various yogurts, Jello packets, applesauces, and energy drinks.

Halfway through their shopping trip, Vergil wandered off. Nero was on the verge of a panicked frenzy when Vergil rounded the aisle, boxes of teabags piled high in his arms. The sight of the deadliest man on Earth, who could easily level the city if left unchecked, walking up to the cart with a every kind of tea under the sun in hand, was enough to stun Nero into silence. That, and Dante wheezing behind him, curled over and holding his stomach at the whole thing, was a decent enough distraction.

“I haven’t had tea in decades.” He explained as they walked back to the office. Nero forced him to carry all the bags with his tea, the plastic bulging with sharp corners. “I felt like indulging.”

So now, Vergil could sit at the table with his cup of tea looking all high and mighty, completely unruffled as he idly sipped it, while Nero sat across from him eating Fruity Pebbles, because that shit was delicious.

“You abandoned me and my mom, came back only to rip my arm off, basically leveled a city, and _ then, _ once you and Dante got your bloodlust for each other sorted out, you left me behind.” Nero glared. “And that’s only the stuff _ I _ know about. Dante’s mentioned you have a history of this kind of shit, so yeah, you’ve definitely done more than ‘slight’ me.”

“Ah.” Vergil didn’t appear affected, but his fingers twitched fitfully where they rested on the table. Nero tensed, half anticipating that he’d draw the Yamato and slash at him, despite the sword being nowhere in sight. “Well, then.”

The awkward silence settled again, and Nero cautiously went back to eating his Fruity Pebbles. A few minutes passed before Nero felt a lightbulb flicker to life over his head, and he hastily swallowed, feeling the shards of cereal scratch his throat. “Wait, was that your attempt at _ apologizing?” _

Vergil took his time reveling in the favor of his—Nero glanced at the tag wrapped around the handle—Oolong tea before replaying. “Not… quite.”

“Then what was—”

Vergil held up his hand and, to his own surprise, Nero paused. “I don’t believe I… could ever apologize for my actions and properly atone for them, but… I can say that I regret them. I regret leaving Dante. I regret falling to Hell.” Vergil looked Nero in the eye. “And I… I regret hurting you, Nero.”

Nero felt his heart skip a beat, and he had to look away. It was easily the flimsiest apology Nero had ever heard, and Nico’s half-assed ‘apologies’ whenever she smoked in the van were absolutely included, but… this was probably the first time he’d ever heard Vergil say his name.

“Yeah, well…” Nero shrugged and stirred his cereal, if only so he’d have something to distract himself from looking at his father’s carefully blank face. “That’ll do until you learn how to say sorry.”

* * *

Another week passed, marking a full month since the twins’ return, when Morisson finally checked up on Nero, job offer in tow.

_ Thankfully _ Dante and Vergil were in the kitchen when he arrived, so Morrison didn’t have a heart attack. He did eye up the couch’s new position with a less-than-subtle judgemental eye, but didn’t comment on it.

“Look, I get that maybe you’re not dealing with Dante’s absence well—” Nero had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “—but this is a big job, and the ladies are out of town, so I have to pry and tell you to get off your lazy ass to help out.”

The job _ was _urgent (or Morrison marketed it as urgent), so Nero didn’t mind the insult. A pack of Riots had settled into an abandoned building downtown. It was slated for destruction as a part of the city’s plans for restoration but, until the Riots were removed, the demolition crew couldn’t get close without risking their lives. The client had seen a group of fou at one time and, given that Riots had a tendency to spread out and hunt whenever and wherever they pleased, it was definitely something Nero needed to check out.

Morrison offered to drive him to the location, which was a good 45 minute walk from the office, so it wasn’t like Nero could say _ no. _ He grabbed his weapons, glanced at the kitchen over his shoulder, and left.

Despite sounding like he’d be there for a good portion of the day, the mission only took an hour to finish. There were only four Riots which, yeah, was a lot and could cause problems, but they were scattered across the floors of the building, which made them easy to take out, if a bit tedious. He double checked that he covered everything before he went back out, Morrison waiting on the curb with his cell phone in hand, probably discussing payment with the client.

Morrison was nice enough to bring him back to the office, patting Nero on the shoulder before he left. “I got some jobs lined up that look mighty interesting, and with the good ol’ crazy bitches out on their honeymoon, I’ll need you on your A game.”

Nero nodded, giving Morrison a vague smile. Based on the past hour where he didn’t feel nauseous once, his demon was slowly loosening it’s iron hold on the office building. Still, getting around efficiently meant he would have to call Nico, and… well, she promised she’d shove Helter Skelter up Vergil’s ass if she ever met him, so… that introduction might have to wait.

“Hey, Dante!” Nero called as he entered the building, throwing the envelope of money Morrison gave him onto the couch. He looked around, frowning when he couldn’t see either of the twins. Dante would’ve greeted him by now, even just shouting a noise to let Nero know he heard him. “Dante?”

The floorboards upstairs creaked and, if Nero strained to listen, he could hear ragged panting and low, mumbled speaking Nero carefully walked to the bottom of the staircase, placing his hand on Blue Rose’s holster. “Dante? Vergil?”

_ “Fucker!” _ Dante shouted from upstairs, his voice punched out, and that was all it took for Nero to run up the stairs two at a time. Panic burned a hole through his chest as he swore, pulling his weapons out of their holsters. He shouldn’t have left, the job wasn’t _ that _ urgent. He should’ve told Morrison that he could shove the job up his ass and sit on it. He grew too complacent—he gave Vergil an inch, and the jackass took a mile—and now the fucker decided, while Nero was out, to finish their stupid sibling killing rivalry.

Nero paused in front of Dante’s door, revving Red Queen’s engine and summoning his wings before kicking in the door. If Vergil was killing Dante, or torturing him, Nero was going to tear him limb from limb, cauterize the wounds with Red Queen’s heated steel so he didn’t bleed out, then repeatedly shoot him until his chest looked like swiss cheese.

But, upon seeing the room, Nero’s grip on Blue Rose faltered as his wings fizzled out of existence, because Vergil was not, in fact, trying to kill Dante.

No, Vergil was completely naked, paused mid-thrust into Dante’s ass. Dante was on his stomach, upper body spread across the bed, just as bare as his brother and covered in bite marks and scratches that healed sluggishly. They both looked at Nero, wide-eyed, Red Queen’s sputtering engine and Nero’s pants filling the awkward silence as he tried to process what he’d just… _ interrupted. _

Dante, pale faced and terrified, tried to get up, but Vergil placed a hand on the center of his back and pushed him down. He followed that up by rolling his hips, and Dante’s eyes rolled back with a moan as he scratched the covers, panting raggedly as parts of his hair fell in front of his face. Vergil looked Nero in the eye, making sure he was watching as he pushed Dante’s head to the side, draping himself over Dante’s back as he sank his teeth into Dante’s neck.

Nero bared his teeth and started to snarl, but he slapped his hands over his mouth and hastily backed away. He closed his eyes, hoping that the image of Dante, completely debauched as his brother—his fucking _ brother _—thrusted into his ass would leave him, but it was branded on the back of his eyelids, refusing to leave.

He was certain that both brothers could see that his dick was rock hard, making a tent in his tight jeans, and he wanted to disappear into the fucking void.

But, even now, some dark part of him thrashed, upset and angry at what he witnessed. He wanted to march in there, pull Vergil out of Dante, rip him to shreds, take Vergil’s place—_ fuck, _ he can’t handle this, he _ can’t— _

“Wait—ah, Vergil, you _ fff _ucking asshole, knock it off—Nero—!”

Nero turned tail and ran, slamming the door to his room behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me:** i can’t wait to write the character development across the Sparda family!  
**Also Me:** and then,,, they FUKC,,, and newo,,, is SAD
> 
> Thank u to Nami both in the comments and on twitter for giving me some inspiration for the movie night scene! Originally, it was just going to be Dante asking if Nero really thought he and Vergil weren't coming back, but talking about it convinced me to add more and flesh out the scene a bit more so there was some more emotional conflict behind it.
> 
> So, some explanations!
> 
> I personally feel like Vergil isn’t the type of person to say “I’m sorry.” Maybe V would, but… not Vergil--at least, not sincerely, and not without having some haughtiness behind it.
> 
> However, I feel like Vergil can and absolutely does regret his actions. Most of his past mistakes are done out of desperation, his want to preserve his pride, and a lack of thorough thought--trusting Arkham because he wanted more power to protect himself; falling to Hell because he didn’t want to admit defeat to Dante (which would mean admitting he’s wrong); taking on Mundus because he believed on some level he was strong enough to kill the demon king, which lead to him being captured and tortured and turned into Nelo Angelo; attacking Nero and ripping off his arm because he was dying and was desperate to either fix himself and become stronger, even if that meant splitting his soul in two… you get the picture.
> 
> So, yeah. Apologizing? Not exactly something Vergil is keen on doing, because apologizing to someone is admitting that he was in the wrong, which Vergil would be hard-pressed to admit. But regretting his actions, showing some level of remorse, and trying to change from the person he once was? Yeah, that’s more in line with his character. At least, it is with how I’m interpreting him.
> 
> As for Nero accepting Vergil’s apology… it’s both a yes and no sort of thing. He can acknowledge that Vergil is trying, and that saying he regrets his actions is a part of that, but he does want to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ come from Vergil (which is unlikely to happen). He’s accepting what Vergil said at the dinner table--that he regrets what he’s done to Nero and everyone else--but he won’t really believe it’s genuine until he hears those two magic words. Still, he’s not going to be an asshole and tell Vergil to go fuck himself if this is a part of his efforts to improve, so Vergil’s half-assed attempt is acceptable enough. For now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, when I originally plotted out this story, it was supposed to have a threesome. As I continued writing, realized that wasn't gonna be the case, so... instead, you get a shit ton of danero pining in the beginning, and now some super conflicted vernero here. 
> 
> This is BARELY editted because I've been staring at this thing for two weeks and I wanted it DONE and PUBLISHED and FINISH THIS FIC BEFORE THE NEW YEAR and i fucking did it! happy belated birthday to me!
> 
> But seriously though, before we get too far off topic: thank you to EVERYONE who has sent kudos, written comments, made bookmarks, and subscribed. I definitely didn't think Impulse Control would get as much attention as it did, and it never fails to blow me away. As of writing this note, the fic is at over 1700 hits, and there are over twenty bookmarks, and over a hundred kudos. I've never been more happy to have such an overwhelmingly positive response on one of my fics before, and I cannot say how thankful I am for each and every one of you. Thank you all so, so, SO much.

A normal, rational person, upon seeing their father and uncle having sex, would yell at them to stop, maybe punch them, then leave and never look back.

Nero was not normal, and he was  _ far _ from rational. He ran into his bedroom to have a place to hide and freak out in peace, not to pack his bags. He'd have to do that at some point soon, obviously, but he was a bit preoccupied at the moment. 

Because yeah, Nero was upset and panicking, but his demon was fucking  _ furious.  _

Once he entered the ‘safe’ haven of his bedroom, he put his weapons aside to clean later and shoved his bed in front of the door to block it. It wouldn’t do anything—the twins could easily force the door open, if Vergil didn’t simply say ‘fuck it’ and slice a portal in—but it made him feel marginally safer, and sitting against the wall in a ball helped a little more.

Didn’t do shit for his demon, who wanted to tear the entire floor apart, then tear Vergil apart, and then maybe Dante, too. Fuck, he didn’t know, all that he knew was that it was pissed off and wanted out to do… something.

Random parts of his body triggered spastically, like his demon was trying to punch his way through whatever barriers Nero had set up to try and break through before Nero could build them back up again. His hair grew until it fell into his eyes, his arms would be wrapped in scales, and his nails lengthened into blades. He couldn’t see what was happening beneath his clothes, but he could feel it shifting, hardening,  _ changing. _

It freaked him out, to say the least. Way more than anything that was happening across the hall. Sure, walking in on…  _ that _ was still something he’d have to process, but his body quite literally fighting against him was the more urgent matter at the moment.

Thankfully, intense anger and focusing on keeping your body under your own control did  _ wonders _ for getting rid of awkward boners (and he was  _ not _ going to try and figure out why his body did  _ that _ just yet), who knew?

_ “Stop.” _ He said to himself through grit teeth, as if that would make a difference. He bit down on his tongue and tasted blood, his teeth sharper than usual and slicing through with ease.

His demon rioted, and Nero curled into an even tighter ball to try and contain it. Apparently, tasting its own blood did  _ not  _ help calm it down. Good to know.

“…more human than either of us!” Nero flinched at Dante’s raised voice. He’d been so wrapped up in his own head, silently panicking, that he hadn’t heard Dante and Vergil arguing across the hall. “Of  _ course _ he was going to freak out, especially since you didn’t stop.”

“I saw no need to.” Nero could imagine Vergil shrugging apathetically. “He would either leave, or he would join.” What the  _ fuck? _ “I didn’t see any downsides, especially if he desired to vent his frustrations after dealing with demonic scum that was beneath him.”

Dante growled frustratedly. “I should never have agreed to this. We should’ve waited until Nero went back to Fortuna before doing anything.”

“Would it had made a difference? Our relationship couldn’t have been hidden from him forever, and we didn’t make a large effort to hide it. We simply abstained from anything beyond simple affection.”

“It makes a difference because we just fucked up any attempt to try and be normal, for  _ him.”  _ Nero heard something hit the wall. “God  _ dammit, _ we made a promise that we wouldn’t do anything, and we went and did it anyways.”

Nero heard a derisive snort. “You made a flimsy, human promise and forced me to accept it when we were mere inches from entering the building, brother dearest. I don’t believe either of us expected it to last as long as it did.”

There was a heavy sigh, barely audible through the wall, and their voices lowered to where Nero couldn’t eavesdrop any longer. Nero’s hands were shaking slightly, an odd sadness welling up from within his chest, and he was torn between charging in there and demanding answers or quietly leaving—

His stomach twisted, and he hastily covered his mouth with his hand, gagging slightly. His knees felt like rubber, and he took a few deep breaths before muttering into his palm, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Any progress he’d made towards comfortably leaving the office had pretty much vanished. He was actually  _ worse _ than before, because he couldn’t even  _ think  _ of leaving without getting sick.

Nero reached for the bed pillow and chucked it across the room out of pure, petty frustration. It hit the wall with a very unsatisfying ‘thwap’ before falling to a lumpy mess just beside the door.

All it really accomplished was making Nero’s room even more of a mess, and he groaned, flopping onto his side as he stared petulantly at the door. He felt like he was six again, living in the orphanage and being punished for something completely out of his control.

Nero’s eyes burned, so he shut them tightly and took a deep breath to try and pull himself back together, shutting out the world around him.

* * *

Somehow, despite the tension hanging in the air and Nero’s internal unrest, he fell asleep. 

It would be more accurate to say that he passed out. He closed his eyes and, when he opened them again, his room was pitch black. He panicked at first, thinking he’d somehow gone blind, before his brain kicked in and oh-so kindly informed him, hey, there’s someone in the room with him.

Nero jumped up, nearly hitting his head on the windowsill as his body ached from the awkward position he’d been in for the past few hours. Standing in the doorway, the bed moved just enough so he could slip through, was Vergil, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“Did you truly believe a bed would stop either of us from chasing after you?” Vergil asked, tapping his foot against one of the legs.  _ Fuck, _ how did he not wake up when the bed moved? It was a metal frame, and it had scrape across the floor if Vergil forced the door open. Was he really that tired?

“What are you doing up?” Nero asked. It was a somewhat redundant question, given that it was the middle of winter and it was dark from four in the afternoon to seven in the morning, but casual deflection seemed to run in the family.

“It’s not as late as you might believe.” Vergil shrugged, almost casual as he circled the bed. “Dante fell asleep at his desk after drinking a bottle of whiskey, and I decided to take a shower.”

The answer  _ reeked  _ of bullshit, but Nero held his tongue. If Dante  _ was  _ passed out drunk, that meant that he was on his own when dealing with Vergil. “Didn’t know we could get black-out drunk.”

“Under normal circumstances, we can not. We would have to out-drink an entire bar to even get a buzz.” As Vergil talked, he stepped closer with a deliberate pace, like a hunter stalking its prey. His eyes, cold and laser focused, made Nero feel like he was under the microscope, about to be dissected. “However, he was exhausted following our activities, and it would be terribly remiss of me to wake him after such an ordeal.”

Nero instinctively tried to move back, but the heel of his foot hit the wall, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his back. Red Queen and Blue Rose were propped by the wall on his right, and he could snatch and wield them with ease. The question was, could he do that before Vergil could pull Yamato from its sheath and slice him in two? “That’s great. Mind telling me why you’re in my room if the bathroom is down the hall?”

“Because I am curious.” Vergil flicked Yamato, the harsh sound prompting Nero to snatch Red Queen and Blue Rose. Vergil did not react, staring at Nero with a neutral expression. “You are an enigma to me. Perhaps, if I were V, your actions would make more sense. But, as I am, you are… difficult to figure out.”

_ “Difficult?” _ Nero couldn’t help the incredulous snort that left him. He never thought Vergil could sound like one of the orphanage’s nuns, but here he was, practically quoting them. “I walked in on you and Dante having  _ sex.  _ Even if I wasn’t related to you, I’m pretty sure I’d be just as surprised.”

“Were you surprised?” Vergil pulled Yamato out of his sheath completely, the blade shining in the faint moonlight behind Nero. “Or did you feel something else?”

“I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t.” Normally, he would be more embarrassed when talking about something like this, but he was angry, sleep-deprived, and not up for Vergil’s usual bullshit. “Maybe, I was disgusted that you two were having sex. Maybe I was pissed off that, the moment I left, you probably jumped Dante’s bones. Do you want a big, fancy word, or are you okay with all the little ones I’ve given?”

“Flaunting your vocabulary would be a nice moment of vague, fatherly pride, yes.”

God, he was  _ such  _ an asshole. “First of all, fuck you. Second, I was  _ perturbed _ when I walked in to see you sticking your dick up Dante’s ass. Is that good enough for you?”

“It was satisfactory, yes.” Vergil blurred forward, Yamato flashing in the room’s faint light. Nero snatched Red Queen, barely getting it in front of him in time to block Vergil’s strike, the awkward angle making it hard to keep him at bay. “However, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie.”

Nero summoned his arms and shoved Vergil away with a snarl, adjusting his grip on Red Queen while also snatching Blue Rose. He doubted he would use his revolver, given how Vergil just deflected anything that even vaguely qualify as a projectile. 

The more pressing matter was that Nero’s room was  _ tiny. _ Nero gave Dante plenty of shit over how he took care of himself, but he’d made a smart decision using this room as storage space, because it couldn’t really work as anything else. It was a miracle Nero’s bed could fit, with barely half a foot of space between the bottom edge of the mattress and the wall, and it took a little finagling to get it in front of the door in the first place.

In other words, the amount of space they had to fight was practically non-existent, there wasn’t an easy way Nero could run out of the room and, even if he tried, Vergil would intercept him easily. They wouldn’t be able to do anything more than wide swipes to force each other back.

…Which made no sense for Vergil, who would want a real fight if he really wanted to settle a matter that had to do with Dante.

Nero glared. “What, you don’t like liars all of a sudden? Maybe you should bring that up with Dante, he’s got about five years worth of lying to my face to make up for.”

“So you admit you lied?”

_ Shit. _ “I didn’t mean—”

A summon sword whizzed past Nero’s face, the edge barely cutting into his cheek before lodging into the wall. Nero brought Red Queen up and charged at Vergil, deciding that, if he couldn’t swipe or rev Red Queen’s engine without risking a house fire, he’d just try and pin Vergil to the wall, if only to keep him from doing anything. 

For the most part, Vergil was unaffected by the sudden rush. He placed his palm on the edge of Yamato’s blade and outstretched them, meeting Nero’s charge with steady strength. Their blades locked, Nero trying to push Vergil’s back to the wall, doing his best not to rev the handle and have propellant spill everywhere.

“You needn’t worry,” Vergil’s tone was placating, a smug grin on his face. “Dante could sleep through an earthquake. He won’t hear us.”

_ “Great, _ don’t care.” Nero grunted as he tried to push against Yamato, Vergil’s arms like steel beams, refusing to bend. He was less concerned about sound—if Dante could wake up anytime soon, that would be  _ wonderful— _ but more concerned about setting himself on fire. Or one of Blue Rose’s bullets ricochet and hit him. Or what Vergil really wanted out of this. “You gonna tell me how I’m a liar sometime this century, or…?”

“In a moment.” A flash of blue encompassed Vergil, and the resulting geyser of pure energy forced Nero back and knocking Red Queen askew. Just as quickly as it came, Vergil stopped triggering and charged forward, this time spearing Nero’s stomach with Yamato. 

Nero let out a pained grunt, refusing to scream and give Vergil the satisfaction. Before he could grab the tsuba and pull it free, Vergil adjusted his grip on Yamato’s hilt,  _ pulled Nero off the ground, _ then leaned forward and shoved him onto his back, Yamato’s blade piercing through the floor.

“That’s… a new one.” Nero said through his teeth, summoning his arms again to shove Vergil away. As if anticipating this, Vergil summoned two more swords and pierced Nero’s spectral hands, pinning them briefly before Nero’s energy sputtered and died. 

It was like the night the twins returned, only the roles were flipped. Dealing with the Furies earlier combined with literally fighting himself for the better part of an hour had drained his energy completely. Vergil not only had more energy, but was more alert than Nero, and he had the advantage of being more maneuverable. The only way Nero could win would be if Vergil let him.

“I wonder, what were you more  _ perturbed  _ by?” Vergil mused as he drove the Yamato deeper into Nero’s stomach, the hilt of the blade pressing against his abbs. “The fact that Dante and I love each other more than what human taboos would allow, or, the moment we had a moment of privacy, we capitalized on it by having sex?”

Nero snarled, energy crackling along his skin as his body attempted to trigger. Nero’s back arched off the floor as best it could, and he tightened his fists until he fingernails pierced through his soft flesh of his palms,. Drained by Yamato piercing his stomach, it took all of his remaining energy to keep himself controlled, and he fell limp against the floor, gasping for breath.

“Ah,” Vergli mused. “I see now.”

“What do you—?” Vergil pulled the Yamato out and sheathed it with one quick, efficient move, a large gush of blood pooling across his stomach. Nero could only manage a faint twitch, accompanied by a gurgling groan, his energy spent. With his hand freed, Vergil pushed his shirt up and delicately placed his hand over Nero’s heart. 

Nero’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, and he was sure that Vergil could feel the slight tremor running through his body. He should push Vergil away, grab Red Queen, and book it, but he couldn’t. There was a certain energy hanging between them that made Nero feel  _ electric _ and, for some moronic reason, he didn’t want to disturb it.

“Now then, as for why you are a liar—”

“Oh my fucking  _ god.” _

“—I can’t fault you for your lack of knowledge, seeing you were raised without anyone properly teaching you our ways—”

“Can you not be a condescending prick for five minutes?”

Vergil rolled his eyes. “Very well. I will indulge your request, so long as you cease interrupting me.”

Nero opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, and slowly shut it. Vergil smiled, unfairly pleased. “Good boy.”

Nero shivered involuntarily. He did his best to ignore it.

Thankfully for Nero, Vergil ignored it, and he didn’t brag about silencing him. “All living creatures emit a scent, which can change depending upon our body’s wants. It acts as a non-verbal form of communication, but humans have evolved to not need such sensitivities.

“However, as hybrids, our senses are enhanced beyond what a normal human can detect. I suspect that, due to your delayed trigger—” Nero felt a pulse of anger, but he forced it down. Fighting over what was essentially a ‘late bloomer’ dig wouldn’t accomplish anything. “—that not only do you have trouble managing your enhanced senses, but that you don’t know how to interpret them or suppress them.”

Vergil leaned down so that there was barely an inch between them, looking him in the eye. A puff of warm breath ghosted across Nero’s neck, and he shivered. “I can smell you right now, Nero. Would you like to make up for your past transgressions by admitting what you’re currently feeling?”

Nero, of course, hissed like an angry cat. “Frustrated from all your fucking peacocking—”

Vergil’s free hand flew up to his throat, his thumb pressing lightly against Nero’s adam’s apple. His fingers curled over his heart, his fingernails digging into his skin just enough to invoke a slight amount of pain. Nero’s breath stuttered, and he made sure to stay still and silent, waiting for an opening.  _ “Focus,  _ and try again. This time, with a little more honesty.”

Another shiver, goosebumps breaking across his skin, and his skin felt electrified. His cheeks flushed and, very belatedly, he realized he was hard, and that Vergil could likely feel it.

_ Shit. _

“Get off.” Nero resumed his struggles, lifting his arms and trying to push Vergil away. Vergil, of course, refused to budge, grinning down at Nero with all the smugness he’d been restraining. “Get _ off!” _

“Truly, this is what perplexes me the most about you.” Vergil’s gaze drifted down to Nero’s neck, his thumb idly rubbing up and down, caressing his Adam’s apple. “We both know what you want, and yet, you still refuse to admit it.”

“Shut up, shut up,  _ shut the fuck up.” _ This was  _ not _ a real conversation that was happening, no way. Nero had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or  _ something, _ because Vergil, his fucking  _ father, _ did  _ not _ just tell Nero that he smelled like he wanted sex with him and Dante. He was going to  _ die _ from embarrassment. Or shame. Probably both, if Vergil didn’t get off him and shut his goddamn mouth.

“I wonder, would you like it if I sank my teeth into your neck?” Nero froze, eyes widening as he shook, Vergil’s words resonating with something primal within him. “If I left a permanent mark that everyone could see and know you belong to us, would you be thrilled? Or would you clutch your pearls, cling to your human taboos, and turn your back on us?”

Nero jerked his knee up—partly out of anger, partly out of desperation—and hit Vergil directly between his legs. He let out a winded grunt, his hand tightening around Nero’s throat for a fraction of a second before pulling away to cup his groin, curling so that his forehead tapped against Nero’s sternum. 

Surprised that a schoolyard tactic worked, Nero skittered back and away from Vergil. He moved quickly, grabbing Red Queen and slinging it onto his back, Blue Rose and its holster and, finally, his duffel bag with his clean laundry. He rounded his bed, forcing the door open a little more so he could fit all of his extra shit through.

“Nero,” Vergil called after him. Out of morbid curiosity, he looked over his shoulder, the hallway’s minimal lighting showing Vergil kneeling on the floor, dimples framing a gentle smile on his face. “Consider my offer. We would be happy to have you.”

Nero lifted Blue Rose and pulled the trigger, purposefully aiming wide. The bullets broke apart, the fragments lodging into the wall but missing Vergil. Nero heard a thud and muttered curses from downstairs, but he ignored them, watching as Vergil’s grin changing to a teasing smirk. 

His heart skipped a beat, and he did his best to keep his expression neutral as he squeezed through the door, going down the stairs two at a time.

“Nero?” Dante was leaning on his desk, his chair on its side behind him as he gently massaging his hip. There was an empty bottle of whiskey sitting innocently on the corner, a pair of shot glasses next to it. With bleary eyes, Dante looked at Nero’s face, then down at Nero’s day-old clothes (he nervously pulled his coat to cover his groin, arousal still thrumming through his blood), weapons, and his duffel bag. His drowsy, drunken confusion fell to panic, his voice flat and icy. “What did he do?”

Nero’s mouth opened and closed like a fish that had been hooked out of the water. Where did he start? At walking in on them, or Vergil deciding that the only way to solve an issue was to poke him with Yamato? Did he mention how Vergil choked him, called him good, and that he  _ liked _ that? Should he tell Dante what Vergil’s parting words were?

_ We would be happy to have you. _

Thinking about it again, especially with the gentle smile, made his brain short circuit. He managed to choke out, “I’m sorry, I just… need space.”

“Nero, wait, let me—” Nero shook his head, stomping past Dante and opening the door, halfway out when Dante shouted after him. “Nero!”

Nero winced and mouthed a reluctant ‘sorry’ as he jumped over the front steps, running as fast as he could towards the docks.

Neither twin chased after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. How is everyone?
> 
> Before anyone jumps on me for Nero leaving, despite saying that he was worse than before with leaving the office, there IS a reason for it. And that reason... will be covered in the sequel.
> 
> Yes, I do actually have a sequel somewhat planned out that will take place basically immediately after this fic. I wanted to make a sequel, rather than continuing on for 3-4 more chapters, because there's somewhat of a tonal shift, and I wanted to introduce shifting POVs, which wouldn't work for how Impulse Control was written. Plus, I didn't want to add seven more chapters to this thing or massively rush the ending, which would have ruined... well, everything, really.
> 
> So yes, there is a sequel coming, but it won't be coming out for a little while because of three things:
> 
> 1) college classes! for anyone suffering with me, the fall semester is going to end on december 21st for me, and registration starts on december 9th. not only do I want to focus on my classes for a little while with finals coming up, but I need to keep my grades up for registering for spring (and also figuring out how to fix my college account, which seems to be busted. i'm not nervous at all.)
> 
> 2) danero week is coming up at the beginning of January, and I want to focus on writing a couple pieces for it! I have a few ideas, but I haven't really written anything, and I want to aim for a full seven days.
> 
> 3) not only is the danero server's secret santa coming up in a little over a week, but i just signed up for a spardacest secret santa, which is going to happen in late december/early january! so, in other words, once all my daneroweek stuff is done, I'm going to have to focus on that. 
> 
> Just know that I do have a sequel fic planned where these three dumb fucks will finally get to be together, don't worry. They'll all get a somewhat happy ending eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be the first part in a series of other mature/explicit fics following this dysfunctional threesome as they 'deal' with their problems. I apologize in advance for anyone who believed me to be pure and christian, especially to those who subscribed to me from prior fics. I am a dirty, dirty person.
> 
> Edit: probably should've added this beforehand but this fic has a twitter post lol


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